A Cut so Deep (Thornes & Roses Book 1)

by Dani René

  “Looks like they’re back,” Damien says, before pulling me back out onto the porch. “I need to do this before we go in there.” Seconds later, his lips are on mine. Heated and hungry, he kisses me, swiping his tongue along mine, as his hands hold my face gently.

  My body eases, as the tension melts away into the kiss. But it ends too soon, and I know we’re going to have to face the music.

  “Promise me something,” I say, as we step inside once more.

  “Anything.”

  “Don’t leave me.” The words are choked out, emotion dripping from them. Fear that he will break up with me, even though we’re not officially together. We haven’t spoken about it, but I feel as if I’m ready. I want this with him.

  I just hope he wants it, too.

  “Not a chance, wild rose, not a fucking chance.”

  “Damien,” Bradford saunters in from the kitchen. “I’d like to talk to you in my office. Meet me there. Hello, Nesrin. I hope you’re enjoying your time here.” He seems aloof, different from what he was like at the reception dinner.

  “Thank you, yes, it’s a beautiful home you have.” He nods at my assessment, before turning and leaving us in the entrance foyer.

  “I better go see what the old man wants.” Damien glances my way before saying, “I’m yours.” And then he’s gone.

  I’m not sure where my mother is, but for now, I head to my bedroom to hide away from the judgment she’ll offer me, the moment she lays eyes on me.

  Just a few more moments before I have to deal with it.

  That’s all I need.

  35

  Damien

  My father sits behind his desk, looking formidable. I know he’s not going to be happy with what I have to say, so when I enter the room, I offer him a swift nod. Friendliness is reserved for others. Between Bradford and me, there’s only cold aloofness that has no bearing on familial affection.

  “Father.”

  “What is it, Damien?” he asks, sitting back in his chair to regard me. His fingers steeple, his gaze locked on mine, as I settle in the chair facing his desk. I have a feeling he already knows, but he wants me to utter the words, so he can shoot me down.

  My father has always enjoyed breaking people’s spirit. Whether they’re employees or family. He did it to my mother, and he’s done it to all three of his sons. I wonder just how long it’s going to take for him to do it to his new wife.

  “I wanted to speak to you about London.” Crossing my left ankle over my right knee, I ensure my posture is calm and relaxed, not wound tight like a spring that’s about to snap.

  One thing about my father is that he’s tenacious when it comes to business, to negotiations, and if he saw an inkling of nervous energy in me, he’d shut this thing down. I promised Nesrin I wouldn’t hurt her, but with Bradford Thorne, promises can’t always be kept.

  “What about it?”

  “I’d like Nesrin to accompany me.” Keeping my expression schooled, my voice calm, I meet his stare dead on. Deep down, I pray that he doesn’t see how much she means to me because if he did, he’d deny my request.

  “Why? She’s got a good school the next town over, she will have Finn and Cassian here, if she needs them,” he speaks. “And her mother and I are here.” His words make no sense because I know Nesrin mentioned her mother said that Oxford was an option.

  “Oxford would be a much better option for her.” His eyes, which match mine, fill with sinister intent. I’ve watched my father break down his opponents in the boardroom countless times, without batting an eyelash, and now, I’m the person he’s fighting against.

  “Is there something you’re not telling me, Son?” he asks, his dark brow arching, as he regards me. The man is nearing fifty-six, and yet, he still looks like he’s in his forties.

  “What could I be hiding?” I challenge him, painting a smirk on my face. The shrewd glare he’s taught me since I was fourteen is what I offer him in return.

  “I’ve spoken to Marcia, and she’s agreed that, perhaps, Nesrin and Creed should attend the year-end ball together,” he expresses suddenly. The words turn my blood cold with shock but heat my chest with jealousy.

  “No.”

  Tilting his head to the side with mirth pasted over his expression, he asks, “Are you refusing me?”

  “Yes. I am. She’s not to go near Creed or any of the Havens.”

  “I’m the man of this house and what I say goes. I’ve spoken to Mallory and Octavius Haven. They’re setting up a date for the two of them for this weekend. You’ll be gone by then. Didn’t you tell me you wanted to leave as soon as possible?” And there it is, the challenge. My father knows more than I’ve told him, more than he’s letting on because he would never ask me that otherwise.

  “I do. And I think in Nesrin’s best interest, she should leave with me.” I push up from the chair and make my way over to Dad’s liquor cabinet. Grabbing a tumbler, I pour a generous shot of bourbon. The amber liquid shimmers in the dim light of his office. The alcohol swills around the edge of the crystal, before I swallow it down in one gulp. The burn helps my focus. He’s not going to relent until I tell him I want her.

  “Damien, I’ve known you all your life. You can’t lie to me and expect me to relinquish anything in your care.”

  “Why? Because everything I touch turns to shit?” I bite out, but I don’t look at him. For years, my father blamed my teenage rage, as the reason my mother walked out, but he never looked in the mirror when he needed a reason.

  “Because she’s your sister.”

  Spinning on my heel, I pin him with a stare. “And?” My free hand fists at my side, but I know he can’t see it. The tension in my shoulders has hardened, twisting my muscles tight. If he thinks I’m letting her go, he’s sorely mistaken, because I will steal her from this house if I have to.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” he tells me earnestly. Those blue eyes that remind me of mine hold more malice than mine ever could. I never trusted his deals; I’ve seen how he controlled those around him, using his power of influence. Perhaps that’s where I learned it from.

  “I was taught never to make a deal with the devil,” I tell him, the biting words causing him to flinch, but it’s the only reaction I get. It’s miniscule, but I saw it.

  “Are there feelings involved?” he asks suddenly. “Because she’s your sister and I doubt anyone in this town would approve.”

  “You’re more concerned with the approval of others than you are of your own family,” I tell him. “Nesrin is mine.” My admittance causes a sly grin to spread across his face. My father is nothing more than a bully, but I’m a grown man, and if I want something, I’ll take it. “If I take your deal, I lose her. I’m not accepting that because, for the first time in my life, I want what makes me happy.”

  His response comes out resolute and firm. “She’ll go to Creed this weekend. You’ll leave for London as per our agreement, and she’ll join you if she so chooses, after the ball. That’s the only way I’ll agree to it. If you fight me, you’ll lose your place at Thorne Corporation, you’ll lose everything, including her, I’ll make sure of it.” He rises in one fluid motion, stalking toward me, and picking up a tumbler to fill it with vodka. I watch him swallow back the alcohol in one gulp.

  “She’s not someone I’d trust Creed with.”

  “I thought you were best friends,” my father says, and it just shows how long ago he’s taken note of my life. I haven’t been friends with Creed for such a long time.

  “He’s not someone I consider a friend. You do realize she’s his cousin,” I tell my father.

  “And you do realize she’s your sister.”

  “Stepsister, she’s not related to me by blood.” Even though I insist, he merely chuckles at me. It’s stupid to fight this with him, since Creed and Nesrin are as far away from being family as she and I are, more so, since her mother is married to my father.

  “Agree?” Dad says, lifting his glass, he waits for me to clink mine
to the rim of his. I don’t want to agree to this but it’s, ultimately, up to Nesrin, and if she’s learned anything from me, it’s that Creed is not trustworthy.

  “Fine. But you’ll be the one to tell her,” I inform him, before swallowing my drink and setting the glass down. By the time I leave his office, I’m angry and frustrated.

  When I reach my bedroom door, I hear hers whoosh open behind me, but I don’t turn to look at her. The scent of her perfume invades my senses.

  “Hey,” she greets me, her hand landing on my shoulder.

  “My father wants to see you in his office. I need to pack,” I tell her, without meeting her curious gaze, which is currently burning a hole in my back.

  “What? Why? Are we leaving?”

  “I’m leaving,” I tell her. I have to give her a fair chance to decide. If I do say anything to her now, she’ll only find a reason to deny my father’s request to go on a date with Creed. And if that happens, everyone will know about us, everyone who can shape our lives in ways I’d rather not think about.

  Dad was right, this town has its beliefs, its secrets. And if they don’t want something to take place, it won’t. Nesrin and I are forbidden.

  “Damien,” her voice breaks on my name, and I close my eyes. “Please.” Her plea almost breaks me. But I know my father will hurt us much more if I swayed her decision.

  “I need you to trust me, Nesrin. He needs to speak with you. I suggest you go now before he loses patience.” I push open the door and step inside my bedroom. And it’s only when I turn to shut it, do I look into her eyes. With a silent plea, I close myself inside, leaving her outside.

  36

  Nesrin

  When I step into the office, I find my mother and Bradford perched on the old brown leather sofa and chatting. The room is dark, but the yellow light from each of the lamps that sit on either side of his desk illuminate the space dimly.

  “Damien said you wanted to see me,” I tell Bradford. I haven’t had a chance to talk to my mother since she got back from her honeymoon. After my conversation with my aunt, I need answers from the woman who I believe lied to me my whole life.

  “Please sit,” Bradford offers, gesturing with his hand to the armchair that matches the brown leather of the sofa. When I seat myself, the material of the chair creaks under my frame.

  Both adults stare at me, and my heart kicks in my chest painfully. My mother sits back, submissively silent, as she twists her hands in her lap. It’s Bradford who takes the lead and speaks. “I’ve been talking to your mother, and I’ve also spoken to Mallory, we believe it would be lovely to have a joining of Thorne and Haven families, and since we’ve agreed, I’ve set up a date with Creed and yourself.”

  What?

  “No.” The word is out of my mouth before I have time to think about it. They clearly don’t know about Damien and me, and I’d like to keep it that way, but I’m most certainly not dating Creed Haven.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?” Bradford’s expression gives away more than he’s letting on. He knows. “Because as far as I see it, you’re our daughter, and if we’d like for you to join with the other powerful family in this town, to create a union worthy of royalty, I would think you’d jump at the chance.”

  He’s toying with me. Did he do this to Damien as well? If he did, he’d have forced Damien to admit to something that I’d rather not think about—our relationship. If I can even call it that.

  “What if Creed and I don’t get along?” I ask, looking at my mother who’s been silent all this time. “Is this something you agree with?” Even as I ask it, I recognize the flit of annoyance in her eyes at me.

  “Damien is leaving tomorrow morning, you’ll need to find your own way,” Bradford tells me, in a tone that confirms he knows exactly what his son and I have been up to. If Damien didn’t tell him, then he’s obviously had eyes on us. And I have a feeling those eyes came in the form of Creed Haven.

  “I’m capable of looking after myself,” I bite out in frustration. “I’ve been doing it for most of my life.” The moment the words are out of my mouth, I want to swallow them back and shrink into the darkness. I never meant to hurt my mother, but I know I have.

  “You’re just like your aunt,” my mother finally speaks up. “Did she tell you about us? The family?”

  “What?”

  My mother pushes from the sofa and makes her way to a cabinet filled with bottles of alcohol. I watch her pour herself a shot of something, which she swallows back and refills her glass, before turning to regard me. I’ve watched her for so long that seeing her like this doesn’t shock me. Not anymore.

  “There are things you need to know about your father,” my mother says, before swallowing the amber liquid like a shot and once more, she fills up the tumbler and waves it in the air. “I spent my life loving a man who treated me like shit.” Her voice is filled with venom at her admission.

  I know my parents didn’t have the easiest marriage. I also know how painful it was for my mother when dad walked out, but I never knew why he left. And I didn’t ever ask because the rage that fueled my mother, after he’d gone, scared me.

  My stomach knots when she looks at me. Something’s coming; I can feel it in my gut. I swallow back the tears that threaten to spill, and the moment she nears me, I know I’m going to break when my mother’s secrets reveal themselves.

  “Mallory, your favorite aunt,” Mom spits the word as if it leaves a bad taste on her tongue, “Fucked your father. She then came to me in tears, begging forgiveness when she found out she was pregnant.”

  The sneer on my mother’s face is clear. Her anger and hate for Mallory, her own sister, runs deep in her veins. I doubt they’ll ever find common ground. My aunt had never mentioned she was pregnant, or even that she had a baby.

  “What happened?”

  My mother’s gaze snaps to mine. “She had the baby. The child who she bore after her affair with my husband.” Those familiar eyes glimmer with unrestrained rage. I’ve seen my mother in all sorts of moods, but this is new. There’s something darker in her stare, and a cold shiver trickles down my spine, running from my neck all the way down to my tailbone. As if warning me that I don’t want to hear what she has to say.

  But I do.

  As much as I wanted the truth, the answer, I’m not prepared for the words that tumble from her lips next. “She’s the girl I raised as my own.”

  Her words sink in, permeating through me, but they don’t make sense. Nothing about this makes sense. I watch my mother, who’s smiling down at me with some sort of satisfaction. It’s not affection, not motherly love, just coldness that I’ve become so accustomed to from her.

  I spent my life wanting to hide in the shadows, in her shadow. And now that she’s just muttered eight words that have my mind spinning out of control, I don’t know why I’m even here.

  “I don’t understand.” My voice is barely a whisper, drenched in pain and heartbreak. It feels as if the world is spinning too fast, and nothing makes sense.

  “When she had the baby, you, she asked me to take care of you. Her fear of being shunned because she wasn’t married had her begging for my help.” Mother sips her drink, watching my reaction with glee. How could someone be so malicious? She’s enjoying the pain etched on my face, reveling in just how much the agony I’m feeling is tearing at my chest.

  The need to slice open my skin leaps into my mind. A craving to cut myself is at the forefront of my thoughts as it twists and turns, gnawing at me. I want so badly to release the pain in my chest, and I know I can do it with a single incision. My fingers tremble, and my breath is non-existent, as my lungs struggle to pull in air.

  My emotions are once more collected inside my gut, where I can’t find the words to voice them. Anxiety is back, clawing at me, reminding me of why that box in my bathroom is still there. It’s as if it’s calling to me.

  The woman before me turns blurry, and I fight to keep my tears at bay, but I’m not strong.
Not in this moment. When I blink, a single tear trickles down my cheek, but I don’t swipe it away.

  “I took you in, raised you with your father, before he decided to walk out.” Her words are cool, as if she’s detached herself from me, from my dad, and I understand she’s been broken by him, but I’m innocent. I didn’t ask for this.

  This life I knew, that I believed in, is nothing more than a smokescreen.

  “Why didn’t you give me back to her?” I croak. My fingers dig into the armrests, as I watch her. “Why didn’t Dad take me with him?”

  “Things didn’t work out like we wanted. Like he wanted. Now that we’re here, and Bradford has been so kind as to allow you to live here, even though you’re not mine, I think we should be thankful.”

  “If that’s how you see it, see me, I’ll leave,” I bite out, as anger surpasses the pain that’s cloying at my lungs.

  “Now, now,” Bradford speaks up. “I think what your mother, uh, aunt is trying to say is that we want you here. Since you’re a Thorne, because I would like to adopt you legally, I’d like to ask you to consider our proposal.”

  “What proposal?” I hate how childlike I sound. I hate that I’m feeling weakened by the news, but I can’t stop myself.

  “We’d like you and Creed to make a go of it. The year-end ball is coming up, and you can partner with him. In turn, I’ll pay for your schooling, study anything you’d like, and when you turn twenty-one, you’ll join with a Haven, we will have our first Thorne-Haven wedding.”

  He looks at me with a smile that confirms what I already knew when I first sat down, when he first told me about this. He knows about Damien and me. It’s the only logical reason I can think of that would make him want to break us apart.

  “What about Oxford?” I look at Marcia. She was the one who put the idea in my head, and now that it’s taken root, I don’t want to dismiss it.

  “I’ve spoken to Bradford, and we feel it’s best you stay here,” she informs me with a sneer.